


In Between the Cracks

by huenkai



Series: A̸͍̗͕̅͒̕ľ̶̠͒̃w̴̞͉̽̏̋͛̚͝a̴̘͑͑̔̾͜y̴̫̘͇͊͒s̶̘̖̜̗̒̑ ̸̞̼̝̙̓̈́Ẇ̸͖̆̓͑a̶̝̅̈́̊ẗ̸͕͚͔͇͈̺́̓͛̋c̶̜̳͑͊̈́͗̽ḩ̴̹͎̭̮̊͛͜ì̷̩̾͝n̷̪̮̆̉̋̾͜͝g̸̟̬̬͋͊̍̚ [2]
Category: CrankGameplays - Fandom, Video Blogging RPF, jacksepticeye, markiplier - Fandom
Genre: Alter Egos, Crack, CrankGameplays egos, Demonic Possession, Demons, F/M, Father-Son Relationship, Ice Cream, M/M, Mentors, Multiple Selves, Postman - Freeform, alter ego, chef, mentoring, painter, parenting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-07
Updated: 2018-10-09
Packaged: 2019-06-22 06:29:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15575814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/huenkai/pseuds/huenkai
Summary: Finally, his act was slipping in between the cracks of his mask, his true colors bleeding through his crumbling facade.A crackfic. Ethan egos. That’s it.





	1. Cherry On Top

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daddy Dark treats baby Blank some ice cream.

**“Wipe that frown off your face! This is not the opportune time to mope around!”**

_“I can’t… literally.”_

**“Mayhaps you could tone it down a bit?”**

The spectre’s brows knit together in worry. _“You’re practically begging for the impossible.”_

 **“All you do is brood and complain endlessly.”** groaned the clearly frustrated demon. Was there no end to this repetitive cycle? It was starting to get on his nerves. Being one of the many demons in existence, he happened to look after this whiny brat. **“Why is that?”**

_“It’s kind of… sort of my thing.”_

**“Tell me,** **child** **, what can I do to put a stop to your senseless babbling?”** inquired Dark, straightening the creases in his suit. **“Something to ease your mind?”**

_“Nothing, really—”_

The sound of an approaching ice cream truck prompted the ancient demon to smile sadistically, in a way that made the hormonal teenager extremely uncomfortable. Dragging the hesitant boy along over to the vehicle, they were happily welcomed by the vendor.

Popping out of nowhere, the ice cream man leaned forward, clasping his hands to rest his chin on his knuckles. “What can I get for you two gentlemen?”

 _“I don’t think this is a good idea…”_ bleated the boy.

**“Hush, you helpless infant. This is for your own good.”**

“So, what’ll it be?”

 **“Two, please. One strawberry and the other would be a swirly chocolate. Oh, and hold the peanuts.”** Dark ordered, producing a stack of bills from his pockets. Blank spectated quietly, not sure if he should be happy about getting ice cream. That, and he was aware who was behind the counter. Only heaven knows what was in those delectable treats.

“It’s on the house.” smiled the man, turning around to fill the cones with the cream. He scooped the frozen dairy. He then pulls the lever to create this swirl on the cone. Once done, he finishes them off by adding whipped cream, with cherries sitting on the top.

 **“Why, thank you, uh,”** Dark easily finds his name tag and reads it. **“Mike.”**

Was he supposed to intervene? At this point, the knot in his stomach told him to know his place and let the adults do the talking. In this case, leaving Dark to deal with the madman.

“Here you go, good sir.” he hands the cone over to the indifferent boy.

The second Dark was about to reach for the frozen dessert, the most unexpectedly expected thing happened. It was so fast, that the devil himself didn’t see it coming.

“I believe this is _yours_.”

Mad Mike slaps the ice cream right across his client’s face, twisting the cone into his nose. He doesn’t give the man a chance to react, as he goes into a full blown sprint for the wheel. “See you never, you losers!”

And then he was off. He sped off into the distance along with his ice cream truck, before the demon could do anything about it, leaving the two choking on the smoke that shrouded them.

His mentor’s energy shifted and distorted violently. That was not a good sign.

(Blank wanted to make a run for it while he still had the chance.)

Melted chocolate dripped and rolled off his face, blotches of the sticky liquid making its way down his tie, soiling his most prized suit.

The ghost swallowed a lump down his throat.

**“Remind me to pay my respects to that… scoundrel.”**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really see these two having a parent-child relationship. Got no idea why though.


	2. Bad Apple

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The bottom line is, Anti didn’t want the kid to end up like the prim and proper demon who sucks the fun out of things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so basically Anti takes Blank along with him. And Anti is a very bad influence on our precious Blank.

“T̸̵͜h͞e͜͟͞r͝e ̧h̴aş͢ ̶̨t͘ơ̴̡ b̸̸e̡͘ ̢ _s͢ơm̡͘e̡t̢̨h̡͡i̛n̶g̕_ y̷ou̕͡͝ ͞co҉̧͏u̴̕͜l̴̵͘d͠ ̢do̢ ̴̶͢r̵̨͏i̸҉g̸ht̷̡̕.” or in this case, something morally wrong. The younger demon bowed his head in shame.

For the umpteenth time of trying to gain a hold of the foolish mortal, he decided to retreat. The American was too strong, and refused to succumb to his influence. He wasn’t up for it anyway. What else should he be doing with his body? No matter how much his senior was pressuring him to take over, he couldn’t do it.

Anti wondered how his underling was even able to obtain his puppet. The spirit barely had the _spirit_ to fuck around. He was like walking on eggshell—there was hardly a room for a single mistake—and yet he was waltzing all over the place.

_“Winning really isn’t my forte. Screwing up is.”_

That’s when it hit him.

“Le̢t͞’͏s ̨fu͟c͘k t̕h̢ings ̧u͏p ̕then.” suggested the defect. Blank needed a breather.

 _“I don’t think we’re supposed to do this,”_ whined Blank, worrying over what his absent superior would have to say about this. He had already failed to claim his body. He was disappointing enough as he is. _“Dark would get mad if he finds out…”_

“ _If͘_ h̛e͟ f̛͝ind̸ş̡ ͝ơ̡ų͏t.” flashing his sharp teeth, Anti’s grin reached his ears as he was devising his little scheme. “D̢͟a͝r͢͟k̸̵ ̴̨is͘͘͡n̵’̨t͢͟ ̶he͘re̛͞, ͞͠͞n̨͜ow ̸͘͢i̶s̨͜ ҉he?”

Dragging him along by the back of his collar, the older ripped open a portal. In no time, they had teleported to where the phantom’s host was. His plan was now set in motion.

Ethan Nestor had been by his desk, passed out on the surface of his table. There was a thin line of drool pooling on his arms. It seems he had just finished recording his video.

“Go ͘o̧ņ. _Pos͞s̨e͢s̛s_ ͢h̡im,” Anti encouraged, gesturing to the figure slumped upon the desk. “F҉i̵n̶̸d҉̧ ̶̡w̨h̕at͏ m̵͘a͜ke͟s҉ ̷͢him tic̸̛k.”

 _“I don’t think this would be… necessary.”_ or even remotely safe, Blank would have liked to add. Harming Ethan means he would have to suffer the consequence as well. _“Dark won’t approve of this…”_

“F̡̡͟u̞̠c̸̢̡͎͢k̘̩̳͓ ̸͈͇͎̳w͕͔͍͢h͘͘͠a̷͇̯̻͜ṭ̴̛̯̞ ҉̕D̟̼̮a̟̻̖̗͢ŗ̨k̴̸̺͏ ̨͍͇̲s̸̛̻͎̣̤͜a̶̰͠ỵ̶̙͘͢ș̷̢̛͎͓̺̳̗͍͟͝!” Anti disregarded what he just said, and instead, pointed at the ceramic by the shelves. “Se̵e͟ ͜t͢h͞a͠t vas͢e ǫv̕e̸r͜ ͠t̨here?”

_“Yes…?”_

“Move ̶it͞. ̷The҉n̕ t҉ip i̶t ̨ov̶e̶r̵ t̢he ͢e̛d̨g̵e͝.̛ ͜Sça̛re t͘he l̛iv͏i҉ng͟ hell̴ ͢o͜ut̴ ̸o̡f ͘hi̧m͏.” commanded the glitch, trying to sound professional as he possibly could. Blank needed to exercise his power over his vessel. He _needed_ this.

The closer he got to the fragile item, the more Ethan fidgeted involuntarily in his sleep. His face twisted in fear. Blank was about to reach for it, only to return it to where it once was.

 _“He’s already afraid as he is.”_ reasoned he.

“C̕o̡me҉ o͢n҉, k̵̵͟͢i̶̵d̵̶͜. H̴av͠e̕ ͡s̴om͟e ̵ ̬̱ ̢̻̻f̮͍u̖n̛̖̗͚ͅ͏͟.” it _was_ their job and sworn duty to make the humans miserable for as long as they live.

_“I don’t find this… fun.”_

“B͏r̷e͜ak̢ ̸a f̷u̸ck͞ing ̧l͢am͢p̨. I̢ do͜n̶’̶t̢ ̶g͞i͞v̵e͏ a̴ s̢hit.”

_“And what would be the point of all… this?”_

Good heavens, he was beginning to sound very much like Dark. _And_. _He_. _Won’t_. _Have_. _That_.

“S̵m̨all͘ st͟e̵ps ca͝n t҉a̶k̸e you ͟a͘ ̷ _l̴o̢ng_ ̨w͞ay͢.” and boy, he definitely didn’t want Blank to wind up like his uptight superior. The bottom line is, Anti didn’t want the kid to end up like the prim and proper demon who sucks the fun out of things. That could only mean double the headache for him.

_“Like this…?”_

“P̴u҉̶t̨ sǫm͘e͟ sw̴e͜͡a̡t̛ i̸n̢̕t̷o͏̵ į͢t!”

Technically, he can’t. Figuratively, he _can_.

Listening to his mentor’s advice, he tipped the lamp over, causing the bulb to crack.

Ethan stirred in his position, shifting his head a bit. It still wasn’t enough to wake up the man.

“̮͖̪̟̦̽̑̓̎̾͠T̡̛̻̙̤͍̪̖͘͞ḧ͖̱̟̦̹͎ͨẻ͎̫̱̯̣͛͐͗̽̈́r̯̙̺̩ͧe̷̋͐̋͂̍ ̴̟́ͮͤ̋͠͠y̛̺͉̅̌͛́̌͘͜͟͡ȃ͙̝͍͈͕͑̾̔ͫ ̷̷̡ͩ̀ͩ̓̚g̬̮̹̝̏ͨ͌̈́͐͘o̘!̏̽̽ͦ”  
̨̨̼̋ͮ̊̽̏ͨ͘͜

The glitch exclaimed in joy, taking pride in his little mischief. His head jerked violently, his neck wrenching in all the wrong angles.

Blank felt the pride surge through him, and the maniacal laugh of his superior assured him that he did it right this time. His actions still wasn’t enough to shake Ethan awake. Anti couldn’t care less.

_“I-I’m sorry it didn’t work out as planned…”_

“Yo͏u t̷ri͢ȩd.̵ ͢At ͠t̨he very l͡e̴as͝t ̕you t̢ri̸ed.”


	3. Sweet Poison

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mike really wanted the gun.

Riddled with a handful of bullets, the body lay limp on the ground. Red hot blood seep out of him, making a complete mess on the pavement. Fingers twitched, and his heart pumped its last until he was no more. Twisted in a wrong position, the motionless man lay still. Crimson bloomed out of his stomach, which made it hard to see in all the red of his costume. Dull blues stared blankly into the heavens above. The poor thing didn’t stand a chance. Unfazed by the raw stench of blood, Wilford returning his revolver into its holster, only to take it back out.

“What a mess this is!” complained he, flicking off the blotches of red that splattered to his face. “Let that be a lesson to you, scamp.”

“Good thing I had _you_ around.” the former military personnel kissed the revolver he had in hand.

And Mike really wanted that gun, for some reason. Wave it around, have a little fun at it. Start pointing it at unsuspecting bystanders for laughs. Imagine all the possibilities! Oh, the things he could do with that gun! He liked to have a new addition to his truck, in case things get dirty. He can never be too careful. But where was this paranoia coming from? It might be from all the pot he’d been smoking. Wasn’t he supposed to be high off his ass to not have a care in the world?

Mike adjusted his rear view mirror, picking out the glint that bounces off the firearm. Cranking up the volume of his music, he maneuvered his truck heading his direction. The blaring song reached his target’s ears, prompting him to turn his head to find the source of the noise. The old fool seemed to have taken the bait. Works every time!

“Greetings, sir! Can I interest you with some of my ice cream?”

“Are you  _daft_ , lad?” he asked in outrage. “Why on earth would I want that frosted  _abomination_?!”

“I wouldn’t say that—”

“The answer would be yes! I would love to try one of the finest that you have.”

Smiling, the drugged vendor hurried off to sell him treats. “Right away, sir.”

“Ooh, preferably chocolate.” requested the overly excited customer of his. Picky, but great choice.

Grabbing the scoop, and holding out the waffle cone, he poured in his special ingredient. This was his personal favorite. Want to know what’s the secret behind it? His recipe included a combination of drugs in high doses. It could kill a person in an _instant_ , and he wouldn’t even know what’s coming!

Once he was done, Mike hands it to Wilford over the counter, who then in turn, gobbles down the sweet. Eyes smiling, and dimples showing, the man was taking his time to finish the cone. The look on his face was priceless! How _precious_. He couldn’t wait to see him drop dead on the ground.

Thirty seconds in, he was licking off the melted chocolate that dripped down his cone. His pink moustache was dyed in the same color. “How are you not...  _dead_?”

“I’m afraid I don’t have an answer for that.” Wil sadly replied. “Was I _supposed_ to be dead?”

“That’s too bad.” Mike really hoped he could get his hands on the revolver. Better luck next time, he thought.

“Hold on a second,” Wilford paused, his mind registering what he was trying to imply. “You tried to  _poison_  me!”


End file.
